Acrotomophilia/Apotemnophilia — Attraction to amputees and the fascination with being an amputee
promotion
Perhaps because of the emotions stirred up, there's now quite a bit of literature about these intertwined subjects. Much of the focus has been on the self-mutilation aspect — masochism, gross misperceptions of body image. In my view there should be more emphasis on teratophilia (which literally means the love of monsters, but should be understood to mean attraction to physically unusual people) or abasiophilia, the attraction to the disabled. In both of these latter cases, the prevailing attitude isn't one of condescension or humiliation as some might expect — it's more like worship.
I myself once had a sexual affair with a female dwarf, or "little person," and while there was an ultimate sadness to the social side of the relationship (a phenomenon the woman was keenly familiar with and very forgiving about), the sex itself did have a hypernatural intensity. She was ten years older as well, and I often think of her, wondering if her grace and dignity was a mask for inner anguish or the mark of someone who understood many things I didn't.
The one-legged call girl I met long ago in the Bay Area got her popularity directly from this fetish, and she was very quick to correct my first impression that she had turned to prostitution because of her disability. She was quite proud of her vocation and was treated with great respect by her devotees.
The same thing can't be said of those who fantasize about being an amputee themselves. This does seem to enter a frightening realm of mental instability. On the other hand, I did meet one man who had taken up knitting as a hobby, and had made himself a series of knitted body suits designed to create the illusion of being an amputee. Who doesn't admire a man who knits?
Formicophilia — Any guesses?
I once wrote this word on a blackboard and someone honestly believed it had something to do with Formica. (How that would work I'm not sure.) Actually, it's the obsession with very small creatures — like insects, for example. In this case, ants. I'm not going to say anymore; this one is too squirmy even for me.
Arachibutyrophilia — You won't believe me when I tell you
I have to include this one for two reasons. One, people always think I'm pulling their leg. (Which is another fetish entirely.) And two, this was the askew fixation that first got me thinking about the whole subject in a really personal way. It actually isn't anywhere near as out there as the others — it's simply a highly specialized niche in the world of mess and food fixations. The object of excessive interest — the medium if you will — is peanut butter. Good old PB. But lots of it.
They'd invited another couple to join them, and the other female had a severe — and undiagnosed — allergy to peanut butter.
I discovered this when the couple that lived beneath me got into a bit of trouble. They'd invited another couple to join them, and the other female had a severe — and undiagnosed — allergy to peanut butter. Moments after they'd smeared her with the chunky goo, her breathing stepped up toward hyperventilation, and even when scrubbed down with wet towels, her skin took on the bloated, bubbled texture of a salted cane toad. (And I feel professionally obliged to report that while concerned, her partner nonetheless showed unmistakable signs of arousal.) Within fifteen minutes, she resembled a giant tongue, and would never be able to tolerate even the whiff of peanut butter again.
Melophilia — The erotic worship of music
I spoke with a man in Chicago who was open enough to demonstrate to me his melophilia. When listening to Yo-Yo Ma's haunting cello on the Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon soundtrack, he became stimulated to the point of an explosive orgasm. He had an exceptionally long penis, which he admitted never became fully erect without the aid of music. A woman in Portland demonstrated a similar reaction (like a petit mal seizure) to James Brown. (I don't blame her.) Elements of this fetish are be deeply ingrained in our culture and perhaps even our biology. Think of the dance frenzies, the religious convulsions and holy rolling. Perhaps as the effects of music become better understood, we will open whole new channels of sexual gratification.
Eremophilia — The exceptional arousal within deserted places
I don't think it would be honest or professional to write about fetishes and not admit to one myself. Whether it's the husk of a lost highway gas station or a vine-choked shell of old motel down in the Everglades, derelicts are intensely erotic to me. Some of the hottest sex I've ever had was in the ruins of a mining village in Australia, pounding my girlfriend in the sunlit stillness. I think she knew the urge was irresistible. Being in a remote, abandoned place produces an almost painfully hard erection in me — a deeper hunger, almost like a drug craving. Freud said we owe ourselves some discretion, so I'll leave it at that. n°
To purchase Kris Saknussemm's Private Midnight, please click here.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR:
Kris Saknussemm is the author of the cult novel Zanesville and now the psychoerotic thriller Private Midnight (which has much to do with fetishes). Earlier in his career he abandoned a Ph.D. program in anthropology, which had led him to study fetishism in a broader magical/religious context in Melanesian culture. He has won First Prize in the Boston Review and River Styx Short Fiction contests and the FC2 Award for Innovative Writing.
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